


Frozen Frogs and Masked Men

by crapoftheworld



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: ATLA Big Bang, ATLA Big Bang 2020, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Badass Sokka (Avatar), Blue Spirit Zuko (Avatar), Burns, Episode: s01e13 The Blue Spirit, Firebending & Firebenders, Gen, Hurt Sokka (Avatar), M/M, POV Sokka (Avatar), Protective Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Torture, Violence, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crapoftheworld/pseuds/crapoftheworld
Summary: He knew he was running out of time. The shadows had stopped moving, but he could still see flashes of metal arrowheads peppering the canopy, evidence that several archers had their weapons trained on him.Heavy footsteps drew closer, the sound of leaves crunching and a cloying heat accompanying whoever was emerging from the dark of the forest. The rain continued to pound all around him and Sokka cursed once more.Just like that, he was out of time.***Katara and Aang get sick. Sokka leaves to find help, but things don't go exactly to plan and he find himself captured by the Fire Nation. Luckily, his winning personality lands him a new friend and a shot at escape.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 194
Collections: ATLA Big Bang 2020





	Frozen Frogs and Masked Men

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the [2020 ATLA Big Bang](https://atla-bigbang.tumblr.com/)! This piece was beta'd by the wonderful [Liz](https://duckseamail.tumblr.com/) and [Cal](https://firelord-zuzu-the-jerkbender.tumblr.com/), who were absolutely amazing to work with! As part of the bang, there's also some amazing art created by amazing people that goes along with it! Links TBD.
> 
> I'm super excited for you guys to read this piece! I'll see you on the other side xx

First, Katara had gotten sick, and _that_ was worrying enough as it was. If anyone was going to get sick, Sokka really thought that it would’ve been him. He’d been the one out in the rainstorm for hours while Katara and Aang were having a cozy cave sleepover.

Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Katara had come down with something nasty, and it was making her loopy and silly. While seeing his little sister finally acting like a kid again was endearing and all, he would’ve preferred that it happened in different circumstances.

“This’ll bring your fever down,” he murmured, gently laying a damp cloth on Katara’s forehead.

It was still too hot, but he had to do _something_.

“You’re a pretty great brother, Sokka,” his sister said, grinning dopily up at him.

Sokka chuckled lightly, but his frown quickly returned. Katara must _really_ not be feeling so hot.

“How is she?”

Sokka nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around to find that Aang had managed to come back to the stone ruins they were squatting in without making a noise.

“Not good,” he replied eventually, standing and scrubbing at his eyes.

He may have been tired, but he really needed to pay more attention to his surroundings. Sokka couldn’t afford to let a Fire Nation soldier sneak up on him like that. He needed to protect his friends, and he couldn’t do that if he was out of the picture.

“I couldn't find any ginger root for the tea, but I found a map. There's an herbalist institute on top of that mountain. We could probably find a cure--”

Aang broke off in a fit of coughs, and Sokka’s eyes widened as he leaned away, pointing at his friend’s chest in accusation.

“Hold it! You’re sick, too! Banished. Banished to Appa!” Sokka said, jabbing his finger with finality.

“Stop it, I’m fine! I can’t get sick, I’m the Ava--”

Aang’s throat seemingly seized up again and he hacked a few times, turning away from where Sokka was still crouching over Katara. At least she had fallen asleep and wasn’t still trying to bend water into her mouth. Sokka had been worried she'd catch something else on top of whatever she already had if she kept getting herself soaked like that.

He sighed.

“I’ll take the map and get the medicine. You can stay here and rest up,” Sokka said decisively, standing up to his full height and patting his back, making sure his boomerang was strapped on.

“But--”

“No ‘buts’!” Sokka interrupted as he snatched the map from Aang’s hand, and then he decided to go with a new strategy to get the kid to actually listen to what he was telling him. “I need you to protect Katara.”

He glanced back down at his aforementioned sister. She was giggling, mumbling something about ‘butts’ to herself. Still delirious. And at this rate, Aang would probably end up like that within the hour.

Sokka honestly couldn’t tell how Katara felt about Aang, but the Avatar himself wore his heart on his sleeve. It was kind of endearing.

“I guess I can do that…”

“I _know_ you can do that, buddy,” Sokka replied, grabbing a spare blanket and wrapping it around the shivering monk.

Aang settled down next to Katara, and the two of them looked absolutely pitiful there, cuddling together with their sniffling noses and red-rimmed eyes.

Sokka would fix this.

He turned his back on his companions, bidding Appa and Momo goodbyes as thunder rumbled in the distance, warning him of impending heavy rainfall.

“I’ll be back with the medicine!” he called to his friends. Another bout of thunder drowned out his final words. “I promise.”

***

Sokka should have been used to this by now. In his time spent traveling with the Avatar, he’d seen so many things he’d never encountered before, never _dreamed_ of before, and so far he’d been taking it all in stride.

Sokka prided himself in his adaptability, so here he was, knee-deep in a swamp, soaked to the bone, and searching around blindly for _frozen wood frogs._ If that old lady was pulling his leg, he’d… well, then he’d just be soaked in swamp water for nothing.

He didn’t really have anywhere to store the frogs, so he had them all tucked into his tunic, their frozen bodies frigid against his skin. Sokka shuddered, hoping they wouldn’t thaw out any time soon. Both for his own comfort and for the health of his sister and friend.

As he rooted around in the muddy swamp water, Sokka’s ears picked up the sound of a leaf crunching in the surrounding forest. He froze, hand inching toward his boomerang.

A flock of birds took to the air, causing more water droplets to shake free of the tree leaves and fall to the forest floor. An uncomfortable stillness returned, the constant drone of rainfall putting Sokka on edge.

“Aang?”

Sokka wouldn’t put it past his dumb friend to follow him out here. He was always anxious to help, though one wouldn’t necessarily come to that conclusion just by looking at all of the sightseeing they’d been doing in the past few weeks. No one answered his call.

He clutched his boomerang in his hand and cautiously rose from his bent-over position, ears straining for another sound.

He heard it then, a footfall behind him, the squelch of a boot being swallowed by the muddy swamp floor. _Too heavy for a twelve-year-old vegetarian monk._ Sokka did a quick calculation in his head, then whipped his boomerang, curving it around a tree trunk and...

 _Thunk._ Immediately following impact, a distinctly human groan echoed through the swamp, and Sokka let out a triumphant shout.

“Thank you, almighty boomerang, for once again being there for me when no one else was!” he crowed, hurrying behind the tree trunk to see who exactly he had hit.

It was definitely a Fire Nation soldier, but they were wearing a fancier uniform than any of the other soldiers he had encountered before. They had a bow loosely clutched in one hand, which Sokka quickly kicked away before he crouched over the archer’s unconscious body, patting them down. Maybe they’d have some useful documentation that would clue Sokka in on Fire Nation movements.

He was feeling pretty professional, already looking forward to getting back to Aang and Katara and telling them all about how he single-handedly defeated an entire Fire Nation unit. After all, there was really no need to specify exactly how many enemies he’d fought off. Aang would probably just assume it was the usual number, around a dozen or so soldiers…

_Wait a second._

_Why would a Fire Nation archer be traveling alone?_ Archers need backup. Not to mention how suspiciously close this particular archer was to the Avatar.

Sokka suddenly regretted making so much noise earlier as he slowly rose to his feet once again. If he squinted, he could see several shapes moving around him through the sheets of rain, perched high in the treetops.

More archers. Fire Nation archers.

Sokka took off, dropping the few frozen frogs he had managed to collect.

He could see more shadows jumping through the canopy in his peripheral vision. They were fast, though none had loosed an arrow yet. Sokka couldn’t count on that luck lasting for long.

Whoever these people were, he couldn’t lead them back to Aang and his sister. They were too vulnerable right now, and they’d all end up captured that way.

He’d have to go somewhere else. Maybe he could go back to the herbalist institute... No. He couldn’t put that kind old lady (or her cat, for that matter) in danger.

As Sokka flew into an open clearing, two arrows hit a nearby tree trunk, one grazing his cheek.

He let out an aborted yell, more from surprise than pain, before poking at the stinging cut, fingers coming away bloody. He wiped the blood on his tunic and kept sprinting.

He could hear footsteps all around him, the sounds of twigs snapping underfoot and the whispers of arrows flying all around him amidst the heavy rainfall, each barely missing its mark.

Unless Sokka wasn’t the intended mark. One arrow flew by his left ear, and Sokka turned to the right. Three nearly hit his right ankle, and he was pivoting back.

It felt like he was being corralled, and he knew there was no way a bunch of archers could keep missing him unless it was intentional, but he wasn’t in any position to do anything about it. He ran faster, cutting back into the forest.

He’d gotten kind of turned around in the confusion and was hoping he was going the right way. The swamp had given way to solid land, which meant he was probably getting to a higher elevation. Maybe he could find a village, a hunting camp, really _anything_ would have been great at this point.

There wasn’t any time to throw his boomerang again, and he hated to admit that he was getting tired, but his breath was scraping through his throat and he had a painful stitch in his side.

Sokka skirted around a tree, hoping to lose some of the archers by making a sharp turn, but then four arrows pierced the loose fabric of his tunic and buried themselves in the tree trunk, leaving him stuck.

“Shit!” Sokka desperately clawed at the tie on his shirt, cursing Katara and her pointlessly intricate knots. “Come on, come on...”

He knew he was running out of time. The shadows had stopped moving, but he could still see flashes of metal arrowheads peppering the canopy, evidence that several archers had their weapons trained on him.

Heavy footsteps drew closer, the sound of leaves crunching and a cloying heat accompanying whoever was emerging from the dark of the forest. The rain continued to pound all around him and Sokka cursed once more.

Just like that, he was out of time.

Sokka winced when he felt the cold bite of a steel sword at his neck and slowly looked up, meeting two darkly amused eyes. They shone gold even through the sheets of rain.

“I think, uh-- I think I might be a bit lost?”

The soldier chuckled ominously and lowered his sword as some of the archers descended from the trees and grabbed Sokka by the arms, restraining him.

 _“Oh no,”_ he sneered, sheathing his blade with an unsettling finality. “I think you’re _exactly_ where you’re meant to be.”

Sokka gulped, and then the archers were dropping out of the trees all around him, deadly arrows still pointing right between his eyes. The man turned as if the situation had been resolved, and before Sokka could make any move to escape, something hard connected with the back of his head and his view of the Fire Nation archers was swallowed up in a sea of black.

***

“These are supposed to be the best archers in the nation. They had orders to follow you back to the Avatar, but you’ve gone and thrown… a boomerang into that plan,” the man before him said, lips pursed as he stood before Sokka with his arms tucked behind his back, the picture of military might.

Sokka scoffed.

“Yeah, it seems like you fucked up, buddy.”

“Perhaps I did,” Zhao said dismissively, turning around as the two firebenders that had been standing at attention on either side of the door bowed deeply. “I have no use for this Water Tribe peasant. Dispose of him.”.

Then the guards left their posts, moving toward Sokka alarmingly fast.

Sokka gulped, yanking at the chains binding his wrists and ankles. This wasn’t going to work.

“Wait! You don’t wanna do that. I have some _very_ important friends, and let me tell you -- if they found out that you killed me, let’s just say you’ll have a lot more to worry about than my boomerang.”

The admiral paused, holding up a fist that resulted in the two firebenders halting their advance, waiting for another command.

“I suppose you’re right. I might have overlooked your immediate usefulness. The Yuyan Archers weren’t able to find the Avatar, but I’m certain you’ll be able to help,” the admiral growled. He turned to address the two firebenders. “Give us some… _privacy._ ”

Sokka pulled at his chains some more, wishing now more than ever that he’d been the sibling to draw the lucky waterbending card. Unfortunately for him, all he had was his father’s big mouth. The damning sound of the door sealing shut behind the guards reverberated through the chamber, and then he was alone. Alone with Zhao.

“Now, then, shall we begin?” The admiral slowly shed his ceremonial armor, leaving him in a simple pair of pants. He walked in a slow circle around Sokka, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor. “Where’s the Avatar, boy?”

Sokka closed his eyes, wracking his brain for any way out of this situation. He couldn’t just give up Aang’s position. It was the same as before -- he and Katara were sick. They were in no condition to fight and probably wouldn’t be until they… sucked on some frogs. Sokka was all alone on this one. He jerked in the chains some more, annoyed that they wouldn’t give.

“Maybe you’d have an easier time finding him if you switched up the haircut. I doubt you’re earning much favor with the locals when you have _that_ monstrosity attached to your chin.”

Sokka’s comment prompted no reaction from the admiral.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Well, I actually wouldn’t mind, but it’d be a lot easier for you _and_ me if you just told me, boy. _Where is he?”_ Zhao demanded, stopping his pacing so that he was standing right in front of Sokka.

He lifted a hand nonchalantly, a small orb of fire dancing in his palm. The threat was clear enough to Sokka, but he’d already dug his proverbial grave.

“Have you checked the Air Temples yet? I heard this new Avatar guy is a real fan of those.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t Sokka’s best work, but he was under a lot of pressure here.

Zhao hummed, the corners of his mouth quirking up just a bit.

“I see that you truly enjoy the sound of your own voice. I think I could learn to like it, too,” he said with a dangerously calm tone, and then he was shoving his flaming palm against Sokka’s chest and Sokka was _screaming_ as his vision whited out.

He gagged on the smell of burning flesh and smoke, convulsing where he hung from the chains, trying to jerk away from the searing heat. At some point, he had bit down on his tongue, and his mouth was flooded with the coppery taste of blood.

Sokka had never been burned before. His mother had been, though. He wondered if this is what it had felt like for her.

The admiral leaned closer and whispered in Sokka’s ear, his hot breath licking at Sokka’s sweaty temple.

“Now _that_ was a pretty sound. Why don’t you tell me where the Avatar is, hmm?”

The hand finally left his body and Sokka gasped, struggling to catch his breath. His throat was stinging and he couldn’t feel the right side of his chest, and he _knew_ that if he were to look down, there would be a fresh burn mark in the shape of a handprint.

Unbidden, the memory of the time he’d nearly lost a toe to frostbite came to him. He remembered the tingling feeling of his slowly freezing skin morphing into a bone-deep, penetrating cold that felt like he would melt from the inside out, like the hot embers from one of Gran Gran’s fires were under his skin. But he realized now the numbness that had accompanied that chilling sensation was a blessing -- the feeling of actual fire was one thousand times worse.

He didn’t want to be burned again. But Sokka had to think of Aang and his sister and everyone back home and Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors. All the people suffering at the hands of the Fire Nation, all the people who Aang had to save.

 _He’d_ gotten himself caught. It was up to him to fix this.

So Sokka spat out a mouthful of blood, narrowly missing the admiral’s boot, and did his best to block out all thoughts of burning flesh and blackened skin.

“The last time I saw him, he was beating your a--”

He was interrupted by his own scream as the admiral wrapped him in a sick mockery of an embrace, two flaming hands pressing into the flesh of his back, the sound of sizzling barely audible over his own anguished yelling.

He struggled wildly, kicking and twisting and _screaming_ the entire time. His lungs were burning, his skin was burning, and he couldn’t get away, no matter what he did. He was completely and terrifyingly helpless.

Eventually, the hands fell away and the admiral stepped back, casting an appreciative eye over his work. Sokka whimpered, feeling the freshly charred skin on his back being pulled when he minutely shifted in the chains.

“As much as I’m enjoying our chat, we really should speed this along,” Zhao mused, using a finger to gently prop up Sokka’s chin. He didn’t have the energy to yank his head away. “Tell me where the Avatar is, and I’ll spare your worthless life.”

Sokka couldn’t quite think of a clever thing to say, so he did the next best thing -- he pitched forward and puked his dinner of lychee nuts and smoked sea slug all over Zhao’s bare chest.

The admiral shoved him away, howling in disgust. Sokka received a slap to the face for his trouble, but luckily there was no firebending involved. His entire body was aching, and he was so, so tired.

“You insolent little-- Imbecile! If I had caught the Avatar, I wouldn’t have been able to kill him. He would’ve just been reborn as a waterbender. But you, oh, you have no such protection. I’m done wasting my time on Water Tribe scum.”

Zhao stalked back to his pile of armor and grabbed an object that glinted in the dim fire-light. Sokka couldn’t quite tell what it was, but he figured it out soon enough thanks to the way Zhao’s arm arced through the air.

The knife plunged into Sokka’s chest, in the same place that Zhao had burned him with his hand, and Sokka knew he was crying now. His throat was raw and he was choking on a mixture of his own blood and vomit and all he could do was think about Aang and Katara and how his last words to them would’ve been a broken promise.

Zhao ripped the blade out again and Sokka didn’t even feel it, just knew that he was losing a lot of blood, more than he’d ever lost. More than the time he’d been bitten by an angry tiger-seal or when he’d accidentally hooked himself on his own fishing pole.

He looked up wearily when Zhao’s fingers wrapped around his chin in a punishing grip. He was apparently done pretending.

“That’s nice. Let me watch the light fade from those pretty blue eyes.”

Sokka gathered his strength, attempting to jerk his head away, but Zhao’s hold was too strong and Sokka was too paralyzed by fear to look away from those cold, golden eyes. Everything around them blurred, but those horrible eyes… he could see the flames reflected in them, see the anger and rage, and Sokka had no doubts that this man would kill him.

Zhao’s arm was winding back again, about to deal the finishing blow, but before it could happen, the door to the chamber slammed open. The admiral whipped around, releasing Sokka’s chin.

“I recall ordering you to _leave._ ”

“Sorry, sir, there’s been a security breach. We have an intruder. S-sir.”

Sokka flinched away when Zhao turned around again, eyes narrowing on him.

“Looks like it's your lucky day,” he said, bending over to grab his discarded armor and begin putting it on again. “But don’t worry, I won’t forget about you.”

With that, Zhao stepped out of the room and the doors closed behind him once again. Sokka sagged in his chains, tears sluggishly trailing down his cheeks as he finally relaxed, feeling the mottled skin on his back shift uncomfortably. All he could do was hang there uselessly, waiting for Admiral Zhao to return and end his life.

It really wasn’t the way he’d imagined he would go, and it would be a disappointingly common way at that -- being killed by the Fire Nation. During his time traveling with the Avatar, he’d encountered many families that had been torn apart by their cruelty. His _own_ family had suffered the same fate.

At least he would be reunited with his mother. He had a lot he wanted to tell her.

Sokka spat out another glob of blood and yanked at his chains some more. He wondered who the intruder was. Unless Aang and Katara had magically recovered from their weird colds and become proficient at tracking people through a swamp and infiltrating high-security Fire Nation compounds, he doubted it was them.

A series of thumps from outside of the door interrupted Sokka’s thoughts, and he tried to refocus his eyes, but everything was blurry and he was feeling a bit light-headed. He tensed up, doing his best to prepare for the admiral’s return.

For a while, the only things Sokka could hear were his own harsh breaths and the slight jangling of his chains. He stared straight ahead, heart in his throat, waiting. Just waiting.

And then the door was creaking open and he realized that _no,_ he was definitely not ready to die.

Sokka choked on his breath, yanking at his chains with newfound desperation, not even bothering to look at the man who was at the door. He could feel tears streaming down his face, some of the salty water dripping onto his chest and causing his burned skin to _sing_ with pain, but all he could do was rub his wrists bloody on the unforgiving metal manacles holding him in place.

He knew that he was supposed to accept this with grace and dignity, that his father would want to see him be strong in his final moments.

But he was going to _die._ Admiral Zhao was moving forward, his footsteps light and hesitant, and Sokka couldn’t process how strange that was because he was full-on panicking.

“Please, I can’t-- I don’t-- Please! K-Katara and-- spirits, I can’t--”

Sokka flinched when a hand came to rest gently on his shoulder, and he looked up into the eyes of a _monster._ It had the same golden eyes that had taunted him in the forest and in this room. It was a spirit, a blue spirit, and _why was there a spirit here?_ Did that mean Sokka was _already_ dead?

He thrashed in the chains, and the spirit stepped away, stopping at a distance but continuing to silently stare at Sokka. He was holding a sword in one hand, another strapped to his back, and Sokka was _trapped._

“F-fuck, get back!” he stuttered out, eyes never leaving the spirit in front of him as he continued pulling fruitlessly at his restraints.

The spirit listened, surprisingly enough, stepping back farther and slowly raising his sword. Sokka nearly choked again, breathing erratically as the spirit sheathed his weapon and held up two empty hands. It was so still that for a moment, Sokka was willing to accept that this was just some strange hallucination brought on by blood loss and he was alone, waiting for Admiral Zhao to return.

Then the spirit took a step forward.

Sokka would’ve screamed again if his throat weren’t so sore, but as it was. He dissolved into a mess of incoherent pleas and threats as the spirit drew nearer and nearer, hands slowly reaching out once more.

They wrapped around his wrists, gripping tightly enough so that Sokka couldn’t fight against his cuffs anymore. And then the spirit made a strange sound, almost like a grunt, and Sokka was staring back into those bright brown eyes through the blur of tears.

The spirit made the weird grunting noise again as Sokka’s eyes started to drift away, but they snapped back up. The spirit inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. It did it again. And again. Unconsciously, Sokka’s breathing slowed down to match the spirit’s breathing, only interrupted by an occasional hiccupping sob.

As the fog of fear and pain slowly dissipated, it dawned on him that in his surprisingly large amount of experience, spirits didn’t breath. And that those grunts sounded distinctly human.

It wasn’t a spirit -- it was a man wearing a mask. And apparently, he was satisfied with Sokka’s breathing now and took a step back again, giving him some space.

“Are you here to kill me?” Sokka finally managed to gasp out as he stared up wearily at the mysterious person.

The man shook his head from side to side very slowly, hands clearly visible like he wanted Sokka to know he meant no harm. He gulped.

“Will you help me, then?”

Sokka exhaled shakily as the man nodded his head. He stepped forward and tore a strip of cloth off of his tunic, wrapping it firmly around Sokka’s chest and back to help staunch the bleeding. Then he pulled a set of keys out of his pocket -- he must’ve grabbed them off of the guards in the hall -- and unlocked the tight metal manacles. They fell away from Sokka’s bloody, raw wrists, and he was suddenly lurching forward, barely managing to catch himself before he crashed into the mysterious stranger.

“Thank you.”

He received a nod in return, and then the stranger was beckoning him into the hall. Sokka stepped out on shaky legs and saw the corpses of several Fire Nation guards strewn about, various missing limbs and deep gashes that were clearly the results of the twin daos that Sokka’s savior was wielding.

And that sight was enough to rouse him from his pain-filled stupor, adrenaline flooding his veins as he realized this was actually happening. _He was getting out of here._

Sokka snatched a sword from one of the fallen soldiers and hastily followed the masked man down the corridor, ignoring the twinge of his burnt skin shifting while he moved.

He didn’t want to trust the man, but he could accept that he _had_ to if he wanted to get out of there alive and save Aang and his sister. Which is exactly one hundred percent what he wanted to do.

The halls echoed with the heavy footsteps of Fire Nation soldiers, and Sokka could hardly tell which corridors the sounds were coming from. Luckily, his silent companion seemed to have a pretty decent handle on things. Or maybe he was just lucky -- either way, he was acting like he knew where they were going.

Still, Sokka wasn’t entirely surprised to see that their luck had come to an end when they whipped around a corner to avoid a passing patrol only to come face to face with five guards, each standing with swords or palms raised.

There was no hesitation from the Blue Spirit -- which is what Sokka had taken to calling his savior in his head -- who immediately launched himself at the nearest firebender. Sokka followed suit, though somewhat slower, like a fat penguin compared to the Blue Spirit’s hungry tiger seal. He swung his sword and felt a jolt of pain roll through him as his muscles strained from the impact of his blade against another.

Sokka traded three more blows with the soldier, eventually finding an opening to spin away and swing the flat of his sword into the guard’s helmet. He grimaced at the pain in his back and chest, looking up from the crumpled body of his opponent to see that in the time it had taken him to incapacitate his single non-bender, the Blue Spirit had managed to take out the four other guards as well as two more who had come to their aid.

“What’re you waiting for?” Sokka joked, and the masked man’s chest shook quickly like maybe he was laughing and trying to suppress it. Sokka grinned before turning and continuing down the hall, hastily stepping around unconscious bodies.

They managed to make it through the rest of the compound’s labyrinthine interior unharmed, but there was no doubt that all of the exits would be heavily guarded. The Blue Spirit seemed to know this as well, and as they neared the main entrance, he pulled Sokka aside so that they were pressed flat against the wall.

Sokka winced at the impact, trying to pay attention to the series of complicated hand gestures his friend was making instead of the constant pain of his recently burned skin. From what he could tell, the plan was for him to stealthily open the gate while the Blue Spirit distracted the Fire Nation soldiers waiting for them in the courtyard. Considering his state, Sokka didn’t really have any problems with that. He nodded in affirmation.

With that settled, the Blue Spirit drew his swords and rounded the corner. Sokka heard a couple of shouts and took a moment to pull himself together before following suit, bursting around the corner with his sword clutched in his shaking hand.

There were definitely more than five guards this time, maybe upwards of twenty. And half of them were slinging fireballs like they were trying to impress those ancient dragons Gran Gran used to tell stories about. Sokka slashed the throat of the nearest guard, who had been distracted by the Blue Spirit and hadn’t noticed Sokka joining the fray.

He looked up from the dead body at his feet, just in time to twist out of the way of a wayward flame. _Close one._ His eyes easily found his friend, who was holding his own at the center of a ring of soldiers. He looked almost as if he was dancing, gracefully dodging and rolling away from swords and flames alike. It was almost like he knew what they would do before they did it, and Sokka couldn’t help but admire the fact that the guy had clearly put in the time to study firebending fighting techniques.

But he had other things to worry about right now, including but not limited to avoiding being roasted alive (though truthfully, that had already happened). He could feel fatigue dragging at his limbs but pushed on, cutting down two more soldiers and barely avoiding adding to his collection of burns.

Luckily, his strategy of sticking to the edge of the battlefield worked in his favor, and he eventually managed to slip away to the guard tower where he would be able to lower the gate. The sounds of shouting and screaming continued distantly as Sokka began his infiltration of the guard tower.

The room with the crank had a single man in it, so Sokka acted fast, knocking him out and shoving his body aside as he began to turn the crank. It was definitely not a job for a single person, especially not someone with multiple burns and a stab wound, but the sheer adrenaline that was powering Sokka’s body helped in that regard, and soon he had the gate all the way up.

He could see the Blue Spirit out of the small window, a miniature figure below him that was ducking and twisting, spinning and slashing. Sokka smiled to himself, grabbing his discarded sword and rushing back down the stairs. They were on the homestretch.

When he emerged from the guard tower back into the courtyard, the Blue Spirit had managed to cut himself a path through the guards and began running for the gate. Sokka was right in front of him, sprinting like his life depended on it (because, as was often the case, it really did). This was it. _They were almost free._

Sokka ignored the shouting and pounding footsteps behind him, ignored the brief heat he occasionally felt licking at his heels and the fact that his entire body was alight with fresh pain. He dropped his sword. Stumbled over a dead body. They passed the open gate. They cleared the outer wall.

He didn’t stop running, though. He didn’t think anything could possibly cause him to stop running at that point, but he was proven wrong when he heard the unmistakable _thump_ of a body going down. The Blue Spirit had tripped.

He skidded to a halt, turning around to help his friend up, and that’s when it happened. They had to have been a good distance away from the compound at that point, far enough out that Sokka didn’t even see it coming.

But then the faint whistling that Sokka’s ears had barely registered as a sound grew louder and louder and right as he recognized what exactly it was, an arrow pierced his right shoulder, going deep enough so that the fletching was snug against his skin.

Sokka didn’t scream. He stood there, frozen like a deer dog in the torchlight. The Blue Spirit had gotten up on his own. He didn’t even hesitate, just stepped forward, grabbed Sokka by the wrist, and started running again.

So Sokka half-limped, half allowed himself to be dragged by his ally as they ran for the forest, arrows flying all around them, landing harmlessly where he had been mere seconds before. They moved past the line of trees, and Sokka exhaled raggedly. Zhao wouldn’t pursue them any farther -- after all, Sokka turned out to not be a very valuable prisoner.

He had burns and a stab wound and now there was a literal arrow sticking out of his shoulder, but he couldn’t stop the small smile from forming on his face as they ran into the night. They’d gotten out.

There was no time for celebration, though. Sokka had lost a lot of blood, too much, and he still hadn’t forgotten the reason he’d come out here in the first place.

“Wait,” he said, voice scratching against his dry throat. The word didn’t entirely sound like he had intended it to, pain coloring and twisting his tone, but the end result was all the same. The Blue Spirit slowed down, a strong arm still wrapped protectively around Sokka’s waist.

“My friends,” he croaked out, and the man leaned closer to hear what Sokka was saying. He smelled strangely familiar, like ashes and something else… tea maybe. Sokka wondered what kind of hair was hidden under his black hood. For some reason, he imagined it would be soft. “They need to suck on some frogs.”

The man pulled away from him, gently feeling around his neck and head. Sokka realized belatedly that he must’ve thought Sokka had suffered a head injury during their escape. He swatted at the hands, groaning as it jostled the arrow that was firmly embedded in his shoulder.

“I’m serious! The lady in the mountains said my friends need to suck on frozen wood frogs. The swamp’s that way,” he said, shoving away from his companion and starting in the direction he knew the swamp would be.

The Blue Spirit hesitated for a few moments, but then Sokka was smirking at the long-suffering sigh coming from behind him and the subsequent return of a familiar arm around his waist, supporting his weight.

Sokka winked at the man, humming to himself as they made slow progress through the thickness of the forest.

At least it was no longer raining, and the coolness of night had settled all around them. Glowing eyes watched them unblinkingly from the darkness while insects sang and birds slept. The trees were thick enough that the air was perfectly still, the only gusts of wind coming from Sokka’s panting mouth.

Soon enough, the ground beneath their feet grew softer and the trees gave way, and then they were once again at the swamp. The moon peaked out from behind a cloud then, reflecting in the stagnant pool of water.

Sokka was about to bend over and begin his search anew, but his friend’s grip tightened.

“What gives?”

The man nodded toward his various wounds. Burn wounds were notorious for being easily infected. He sighed, allowing the Blue Spirit to guide him to a nearby tree trunk, which he leaned his left shoulder on -- the only part of his body not burned, cut, or skewered with an arrow -- while his friend commenced rooting around in the green swamp water.

Sokka waited, feeling the final dregs of the adrenaline from his second wind bleed from his body, along with the actual blood that was still sluggishly dripping from his shoulder. At least the fresh pain of the barbed arrowhead was enough to overpower the pain of his burns. The stab wound on his chest was already crusted over with blood -- the least of his worries.

He was shaken from his thoughts when a familiar blue mask appeared in his vision again, though this time, he had an armful of frogs rather than two deadly swords in his hands.

Sokka cautiously pushed off of the tree, trying to cover up his wince with a forced laugh.

“Nice haul! Come on, my friends are this way.”

And so they walked in companionable silence, Sokka barely avoiding tripping over tree roots while the Blue Spirit managed to step silently through the forest, despite the litter of twigs and dried leaves covering the floor.

Sokka didn’t have the luxury of wondering whether leading a complete stranger to the Avatar was a good idea. There was no way he would’ve made it out of the Fire Nation compound without his help, and besides, he was carrying the frogs for him. If worse came to worst, Sokka could shove a frog in Aang’s mouth and then he’d be able to defend himself. If that’s how the frog cure even worked.

Soon, they emerged from the forest again, following the tree line back to the ruins where Sokka had left his sister and Aang. He grabbed one of the frogs preemptively, in case his new friend decided to bolt when he saw the Avatar.

They rounded the corner, and the Blue Spirit stiffened immediately. He supposed seeing a flying bison for the first time would have that effect on anyone, though. Appa, in all of his furry glory, was sleeping soundly right where Sokka had left him.

“They’re in there,” Sokka said, trying to get his friend’s attention again. His shoulders were still tense, and Sokka was good enough at reading body language to note that his feet were pointing away like he was ready to bolt. “You can leave now. I can take care of--”

Sokka doubled over, the pain in his shoulder suddenly flaring, and then he was dropping the frozen frog and heaving, nothing but bile coming to his mouth. He would’ve collapsed had the Blue Spirit not reacted so quickly, moving over to catch Sokka as his knees buckled.

He watched through bleary eyes as the Blue Spirit carefully lifted his body, carrying him and laying him down gently beside his sister. He turned to leave, and Sokka had enough sense to panic, instinctually reaching out with his bad arm to try and grab the masked man’s sleeve, but then another wave of pain was passing through him and he moaned.

The man left for a second, but he was back quickly, two frozen frogs in hand. He seemed to hesitate briefly before shrugging to himself, popping them into Katara and Aang’s mouths.

Sokka struggled against the encroaching blackness but knew at this point it was no use. It was a wonder he’d stayed awake as long as he had with all of the injuries. At least he could be content in knowing that Katara would be able to heal up the worst of them when she was better.

He blinked, eyes drooping, and the last thing he saw before unconsciousness took him was the blue mask of the man who had saved him. He had a feeling that the Blue Spirit would be long gone when he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Wowzers! This was a new experience, seeing as it was my first ever bang, but I' really happy with how it turned out and I'm eternally thankful to all of the artists and betas I got to work with.
> 
> Before I forget, this fic was based on [this post](https://zukkababey.tumblr.com/post/622687263015485441/zukka-canon-divergence-where-in-the-blue-spirit) by zukkababey on Tumblr.


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